


𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐅𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲, 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝

by Arthuria_PenDragon



Series: ❦ 𝕂𝕟𝕊: 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔽𝕒𝕞𝕚𝕝𝕪 ❦ [4]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Akashi Masaomi's A+ Parenting, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF GoM, Bad Parenting, Expectations, Families of Choice, Family Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, GoM as a Family, Mental Maturity, Minor Violence, POV Akashi Seijuurou, POV Third Person Limited, Post-Winter Cup, Prompt Fic, Protective Generation of Miracles, Protective Momoi Satsuki, Psychological Pressure, Some Humor, Team as Family, Threats of Violence, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000, friends/family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:34:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27697003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arthuria_PenDragon/pseuds/Arthuria_PenDragon
Summary: Seijūrō has to deal with his father’s expectations and dissapointment after the Winter Cup. Good thing the Kiseki happen to be nearby.Seijūrō watches, speechless — and finally understands what FAMILY means.AKA, a bunch of teens happen to be more mature and sensible, than a grown-up businessman.
Relationships: Akashi Masaomi & Akashi Seijuurou, Akashi Seijuurou & Generation of Miracles, Akashi Seijuurou & Kiseki no Sedai | Generation of Miracles, Akashi Seijuurou & Momoi Satsuki, Generation of Miracles & Generation of Miracles, Kiseki no Sedai | Generation of Miracles & Momoi Satsuki, No Romantic Relationship(s)
Series: ❦ 𝕂𝕟𝕊: 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔽𝕒𝕞𝕚𝕝𝕪 ❦ [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2021426
Comments: 13
Kudos: 189





	𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐅𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲, 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt by @AyaMASO  
> She asked me to write a father/son confrontation between the Akashi males.... and this is what came of it. Hope it´s okay

Akashi Seijūrō sighed tiredly — they’d lost. He had _lost_ for the first time... and he was _happy_. Kuroko had been right. It wasn’t winning, that had given him elation, but the game itself. The knowledge, that he could play his best and his opponents would be able to keep up and force him to concentrate. Force him to his limits. Was that what the others had felt too, while facing Seirin?

 _‘It seems you have been correct, Kuroko.‘_ he thought whistfully.

In the back of his mind, his other self whispered something dark and distant, but he didn’t listen. For years, he had let that twisted version of him to rule his body. No longer. Time to be himself again. That other version of him would not be gone so fast, not after it had been around for years... but he could keep it at bay. He could be himself, as long as he remembered, that it was the _game_ that mattered, not the result. He was himself again — thanks to Kuroko.

They — all of the _Kiseki no Sedai_ — were themselves again, thanks to Kuroko. Their bonds, which they’d formed amidst the expectations, sweat and blood during Teikō, still existed. They were stronger, than ever. And it eased his mind — he knew, that even _now_ , when they played for different schools, he could grab his phone, call them when needed and they would drop everything and hurry to help him, regardless of the distance seperating them.

Just as they’d done for each other during Teikō’s first two years.

“Akashi? Are... Are you okay?“

Akashi looked up to be met with the worried gaze of Mibuchi Reo. He couldn’t read thoughts, but the green eyes said everything. Glancing around, he noticed, that the rest of his team were looking at him the same way. Even Mayuzumi. Akashi threw the Phantom an apologeting look — he had a lot of making up to do with his team and Mayuzumi was on the top of that list.

“Yes, I’m fine Mibuchi. Nothing to worry about. Just a little tired. Go home and rest. We have the next week as break and then we return to training afterwards.“ his lips curled upwards, “We have to take back the crown from Seirin during the next Winter Cup, after all.”

“You never said he was _that_ good.“ Mayuzumi spoke up suddenly, “Kuroko.”

Akashi sighed. “I taught him, the way I taught you, Mayuzumi-san... but in the end, I allowed certain circumstances to blind me. He had exceeded my expectations by a lot. But then again... he was one of us. One of the _Kiseki_ , even if many think the Phantom Sixth Man of Teikō was just a rumour.“ he snorted a bit, “Downright _ridiculous_. He was on court just as much, as you. Maybe even more, back then. The first win we had with Teikō... we owed that to _his_ skills with Misdirection. Back then, we worked as a team. As a _real_ team. A lot like Seirin now.” he looked at Mayuzumi, “And he proved it, that the team is as weak, as the weakest link. But even the weakest link can be made strong, as long as the others are there.”

Silence settled on the locker room, his words heavy in the air. All of his teammates studeied him sharply.

“You’re really different now, Sei-chan...” Mibuchi said.

He hummed and grabbed his sweater. “Ah, that’s the problem with DID, Mibuchi. The real you knows you have it, well in ideal case... and the other doesn’t. Sadly for us all, my Kiseki teammates involved... the worse side of me has been around for too long. I owe you all an apology for all that happed up till now.”

They all shared a look.

“Apology accepted.“ Hayama murmured and the others nodded. “Ah... not that I want to be mean or something... but what if the ‘other‘ you comes back?“

Akashi hummed thoughtfully and looked at Mibuchi. “It’s unlikely... but remind me during next practice to give you Kuroko’s number. We still have each others’ contacts from our Teikō days. Kuroko will know what to do.“ he chuckled, “He _did_ after all, do it now, during a match at that. In the worst of cases, he can get my former teammates on board, too. Five — six, if we include Momoi-san,— people doing the nagging will do the trick, I think... even on the worst of days.“ he said, chuckling.

“Alright.“ Mibuchi nodded, blinking at him surprised.

He had a feeling they’d dodge the scissors he’d been throwing around just to wipe the floor with him, if it happened again. “They’d dodge the scissors and still wipe the floor with me, just to make sure I’m _me_.“ he grinned wryly. “And Kise would whine about it so loud, that Kuroko would probably lose his temper and use Midorima’s lucky item for the day, to stuff his mouth.“ he said with a soft snort, opening the door.

“You make it sound as if that had happened before.“ Nebuya said, “Which is hard to believe, since that guy is so much like Mayuzumi.”

Akashi hummed. “It _had_ happened once. It was during the end of our second year. And... you’ve all seen what Kuroko is like, when pissed. Hanamiya should have _never_ pissed him off. At that point, if Kuroko had it, he would have thrown my scissors at him, without any remorse. Straight into his eye, too. Kuroko’s passes don’t miss —he _never_ misses, when pissed.”

“Roger that.“ his team murmured fearfully, as shivers ran trough them. He had a hunch the scenes of the Seirin-Kirisaki match were flashing in front of their mental eyes.

He hummed, but his good mood was immediately tampered, when he noticed his father. In the suit, with his dark red hair slicked back, he didn’t belong into the crowd of basketball lover teens and adults, who’d come to have fun and cheer for them. The cold aura, that was radiating from him, set him even more on edge. Something in his green eyes... he had a feeling he was going to get something for losing today.

He looked at his team. “Go on without me, boys. Rest up. Meet you in school.”

Their gazes followed his. “Eh, who’s he Sei-chan? Looks a lot like you.”

He rolled his eyes, jabbing at Mibuchi’s ribs, which caused him to hiss. “My father. Now go along.”

The team shared looks and then nodded. “Okay. Rest well, Captain.” and so they departed. Seijūrō watched them go for a moment and used that time to steel himself for what was coming. His father didn’t tolerate weakness —and his losing of today’s match was that. Weakness.

He had been taught basketball by his mother, but after her death, the only reason he had been allowed to hold onto the sport, was the continous sucess in Junior Club and later, in Teikō. Only winning guaranteed, that he could dribble a ball and so, pressured by the man’s expectations and by Teikō’s... he’d forotten to have fun, while playing.

They’d all forgotten to have _fun_. (Kuroko hadn’t. Kuroko _never forgot_ — so, if basketball ever had a patron saint, that was surely Kuroko Tetsuya.) The thought caused him to chuckle inwardly.

“Otō-san.” he nodded in greeting.

His father’s green eyes bore into his red ones, but there was no flicker of anything in those eyes. (Had his father noticed the change? That his cheterocromia was now gone? Or did he not acknowledge it? Had he _never_ acknowledged the _obvious_ — sudden— shift in his personality?)

“Seijūrō.”

He sallowed hard at the tone, as the green eyes, with the slightly slit pupils —a lot like a... _snake’s_ , now that he thought about it,— bore into his own. The air seemed to have frozen around them and just when he would have needed it, there was not a soul around. As if suddenly, the massive stadium was empty, save for the two of them.

He hated that. He _hated_ being around his father — in the back of his mind, his bloodier self snapped the imaginary scissors... and he had to fight the urge to get the one in his bag. The stare down continoued for another minute, before the man spoke.

“You _lost_.” his father hissed, contempt and disapproval lacing his tone.

Akashi took a soft breath, counting till ten in his mind to keep calm — he was just himself again... he didn’t need to snap back to his _other_ self, so soon...

“Yes. But that happens sometimes. In every sport, with every team.” he said, trying to keep his tone level.

“It happens to others. Not to _you_. You’re an **_Akashi_**. We _don’t lose_.” he growled, “Especially _not_ against such a no-name school.”

He twitched. Seirin was a relatively new Basketball Club, but their players were good. And their coach wasn’t bad either, despite being a student herself. (But then again, _he_ had trained his team at Teikō and _he_ had trained Rakuzan too... so the situation wasn’t so much different, he guessed.)

“Their Basketball Club may be new, but they had Kuroko on the team. Kuroko Tetsuya was — ** _is_** — a member of the _Kiseki no Sedai_ , as much, as I am. He knows me just as well, as I know him. We all do.” he said. And he meant every word.

Losing was shameful, his father said. He felt no shame. There was no shame in losing against his teammate, because the six of them were equals. Their skills were different, but they were _equals_ , at the end of the day. The cold fire in the green eyes intensified and... suddenly, not even his skills aquired and unlocked trough training, were enough to warn him of what came next. His father moved as fast, as a snake indeed and stuck.

The slap left his cheek burning and forced him to stagger back, bringing tears to his eyes. “You’re forgetting the lessons I taught you, _son_.“ his father growled, “Winning comes first. You’re an Akashi. No weakness. And you were weak. _You are weak_... as you always were.”

He sallowed hard. He’d always known about his father’s expectations and ambicious nature... but... but he thought the man would hold _some_ sympathy and gruffly point out his mistakes and tell him to try winning next year. Instead... _instead..._

“That was uncalled for.” a female voice insisted, as sharp as the blade of his scissors.

“It was a fair match.” came the measured, matter-of-fact statement. (He could imagine Midorima fixing his glasses just now, the glass glinting with sinister light and he didn’t even need to look behind him.)

“Aka-chin played his best.” a lazy voice drawled. Only one person called him _that_.

“What parent hits their child for losing **_one_** _game_?” Ah, the growl of a beast... a real pradator. And other than himelf, there was only _one_ person on his former team...

Akashi stiffened at those words. Slowly he looked up and found them standing there, six different coloured eyes burning with the coldest of fire he’d ever seen. Their forms shrudded in dark auras, giving off a bloodthirsty feeling... and it was almost as if they were all in The Zone. (Fact aside, that Kuroko had never entered it and Momoi had never played professionally enough to even consider...)

His friends were dressed casually, coats slung over their forms. The only one, who was dressed in school colours, as expected, was Kuroko. The pass specialist still seemed winded, but his tiredness was overridden by the cold fire in his eyes. They walked closer to him, — Murasakibara looming above them all— encircling him.

“Basketball is _fun_. We play because we _love_ it.” Aomine growled, putting a hand on his shoulder. Strangely, Akashi noted, the physical contact helped loosen the tenseness in his body.

“It’s not winning, that matters, but the _effort_ and the strategy. We can learn from loss. In fact, we can learn more from loss, than from victory.“ Midorima pointed out coldly.

“It helps us connect and make lasting friendships. With our teams and sometimes, our opponents, too. With our teams, we don’t have to pretend.“ Kise growled, his cheerfulness gone, replaced by such stone-cold face... that he couldn’t even believe, that it was the same Kise, who bounced around all the time, acting like an excited puppy. The blonde inched closer to him, their shoulders touching. Involuntarily, a wave of calmness washed over him.

“Not to mention, that parents should _support_ their children.“ Kuroko said. His tone eerily deadpan, yet cold at the same time. The look in the Phantom’s eyes reminded Akashi of the Kirisaki Daīchi match. “Parents are supposed to be there for their children, to teach them. To scold them if they do something morally wrong. To console them when they are sad. To give them advice and encouragement, when they _lose_.” he said, his calloused fingers wrapping protectively around his lower arm...

“Parents should _protect_ their children, **_not_** _harm_ them.“ Murasakibara growled and... Akashi noticed. The massive hands twitching, showing the center’s ire and his inner fight not to _crush_ his snake of a father.

 _Protective_.

Akashi’s eyes went wide, when he realised, _what_ his friends were doing. Even more tears escaped from his eyes, but this time, not from shock or pain. Kuroko tugged him a bit farther away, which forced him to lean further into Murasakibara. Akashi craned his neck a bit, to look up at the childish Yōsen player.

The circle of his friends seemed to close tigher around him, blocking his father’s approach. They were protecting him, he realised. Every single one of them — even sweet Momoi— looking like they’d kill a man with a basketball. But... perhaps Kuroko’s strongest pass was strong enough to cause internal damage, if aimed correctly. (And for some reason, that thought made his blood run cold.)

“You obviously don’t know the meaning of family.“ hissed Momoi.

“And I was wondering what had messed up Akashi in the head... no surprise he snapped.“ Aomine spat, “In fact, my respect for you just skyrocketed, Captain.” the ace said.

For some reason, Aomine calling him _captain_ again, despie them officially playing on different teams, made his breath hitch. Their eyes met — red on dark blue.

“If I had been in your place, I would have snapped much sooner and I would have already driven those scissors you are so fond of, into his neck.” Aomine’s eyes shifted and he glared at his father.

And Akashi watched with relief and satisfaction, as the man took a step back.

“Learn some parenting, _fucker.“_ Kuroko growled, “Or first, maybe look up the meaning of the word ‘family‘ in a damn dictionary.”

Akashi gaped at his former Sixth Man. Quiet, polite Kuroko just... _‘Am I dreaming, or did Kuroko just... curse? At my father, no less? Is he that brave or that much of a fool?‘_ Somehow, he had a feeling, that in Kuroko’s case, it was the former. The teal-haired one had proven, that he would do anything for what he held dear... and they — the Kiseki— were obviously the dearest to him. He had stood up against them, to knock sense into them. Endured the pain of seeing them as they were, only so they could be themselves again.

Akashi could feel the thousand and one unspoken treaths, that hung in the air, figuratively flug by his teammates at his father.

“Let’s go, Akashicchi. No reason to stay any longer.“ Kise said, tone still low and dangerous. “We’ll treat you and Kurokocchi to food. You both look like death warmed over.”

“I agree.“ Momoi spoke up, offering him tissues, her burning eyes still on his father, “You did just play most of your game in The Zone, not to mention that you also helped your teammates into it. A feat _no one_ managed before. A proof of your _skill_.” she hissed coldly, pointedly.

Akashi took the tissues and wiped his face, trying to regain some composure, as his teammates gently steered him towards the entrance, pointedly staying between him and his father. He didn’t need to look at them, to know that Kise and Aomine were still throwing the man dark looks... and if looks could kill, he would have been the Head of the Akashi family the moment his teammates had arrived.

“Say, Akashi-kun,“ Kuroko spoke up, tone back to the normal deadpan, but there was a soft pleading in there, too. Their eyes met. “Would you mind staying over for the weekend?”

“Yea, a big sleepover, like old times!” Kise said happily, showing his sports bag. That was, when Akashi realised, that all his teammates had similar bags on their shoulders or in their hands.

“I don’t have anything prepared.“ he murmured, still dazed. What... had just happened?

Kuroko looked at him, a smile on his face. A wide, soft smile —the kind, that equalled Kise and Aomine’s megawatt grins. “We’re mostly the same height. I’m sure some of my clothes will fit you, so it’s not a problem.”

“We could watch some movies.“ Midorima offered, patting his bag. “I brought some.”

“We can have snacks too.” Murasakibara said, showing a _second_ bag — no doubt full of food.

“And we can play basketball like old times.“ Aomine grinned, wide and carefree, the way he used to in the early days of Teikō. “The street court is not far from Tetsu’s place.”

A round of agreements went around at Aomine’s suggestion and Akashi found himself laughing, carefree and happy despite his recent loss. _“It’s nice to be with **family** again.” _he said, pointedly raising his voice, so his father could hear, despite the growing distance.

Because _that’s_ what these people were, he thought.

Kise. Aomine. Kuroko. Midorima. Murasakibara. Momoi.

They had seen him in his best moments and in his worst. They laughed with him, cried with him, bled with him and protected him when he could not protect himself — like now,— and in exchange, he protected them, when he could.

They were _family_. It was not blood, that made family. And that was something his father could — would probably never comprehend. But that didn’t matter. As long as he had these six... as long, as they were together, they could probably even conquer the world, if one of them fancied it.

The thought made him chuckle. They were together again and he’d never been happier.

**Author's Note:**

> When you are done, please leave comments. Thank you :3


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